


Massage

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, PWP, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:48:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23521843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Thranduil plays with Meludir for awhile.
Relationships: Meludir (Hobbit Movies)/Thranduil (Tolkien)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 95





	Massage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seimei (aoyagiseimei)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aoyagiseimei/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for seimeisalive’s “Meludir getting fingered by his master (Thranduil) for a good long time, as some sort of reward” request on [my Dreamwidth](https://yeaka.dreamwidth.org/1190.html).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

A ragged moan tumbles past Meludir’s parted lips, followed by a rasped, “ _My king_.” White-gold hair slides past the column of Meludir’s throat, a shadow casting over him. Soft lips brush his cheek while a broad chest presses against the arch of his back. The fingers inside him twist, petting the sides of his stretched channel. Meludir’s broken cry comes out in a hoarse whisper, and he writhes in his king’s grip. 

Thranduil purrs, “Not yet.” That deep voice is beautiful, sensual, and nearly enough to make Meludir reach his peak again, though he’s been specifically told to hold back—Thranduil wanted to make this _last_. It has lasted. Meludir’s been in the same position, lying on his side, up against Thranduil’s gorgeous naked body, for the better part of an hour, and he’s had Thranduil’s fingers inside him far longer than that. First he was up on all fours, but eventually his body tired, and then he sat, then he lay on his back, legs spread in the air, with Thranduil looming over him. Then Thranduil rolled him over, and Meludir’s pliant body moved how Thranduil wanted. His lungs still struggle for air, his pulse quick in his ears. His skin is flushed and sweaty, a deep pink everywhere, especially between his quivering thighs. He’s soaking wet and glued to the bed sheets, but somehow, Thranduil just milks _more_ out of him. Thranduil’s teeth graze down his jaw and along his neck, dancing down to his shoulder, biting in. Meludir groans and writhes. 

It’s a _reward_ , really: he finally cleared away the rest of the path for the Dorwinion wine traders that Thranduil so dearly loves. Somehow, Meludir doesn’t think the other elves on his patrol have received the same glorious treatment. Maybe they asked for other things, though that would make them fools, or more likely, Thranduil simply offered them wine. Meludir no longer has a taste for anything but _this_. In a way, it’s become almost a punishment, because it’s _so good_ , and he’s been so close to that edge for so long. At the same time, he never wants it to end. He wants to lie in his king’s bed with Thranduil’s strong arms around him and one hand all but buried in his channel for as long as he can take. Thranduil’s thumb presses against his clit, and Meludir arches out, delirious with _pleasure._

His king is hard. He can feel it pressing up against his rear, grinding subtly between his cheeks. He wants it inside him so badly. He’d do anything for it. But he doesn’t beg any longer, simply because his throat is raw from moaning. Thranduil’s free hand glides across his chest, pausing to rub over his pebbled nipples. Meludir whimpers, and Thranduil murmurs, “You know... you may actually have become my favourite. I think I may not ever let you leave this bed.”

Meludir makes a noise of absolute ruin. He’s so _honoured_ he can barely stand it. There are tears prickling the corners of his eyes. Thranduil slowly withdraws and thrusts back in at an angle. A part of Meludir is aching, horribly sore, but he still clenches tight around those probing fingers and burns for _more_ —he wants something thicker, longer, that can fill him up to the brim and pump him full of royal seed. His inner walls try to suck Thranduil deeper, and Thranduil purrs, “Simply divine... you really are such a good boy for your master.” Meludir moans his agreement and tries to nod, but he doesn’t have the strength. The cadence suddenly switches, and Thranduil hisses, “Your master _loves you_ for it.”

Those words are all that Meludir needs. He shudders and comes with a blissful wail, clenching and gushing around Thranduil’s fingers. He knows he was told to hold back but can’t help himself, not under such praise, not when the most gorgeous elf in all of Middle Earth is taking such care with his body. He hiccups and becomes distantly aware of the tears rolling down his cheeks, no worse than the sweat everywhere else and the mess between his legs. Thranduil’s fingers still don’t withdraw. Meludir doesn’t ask them to. 

Thranduil chuckles, “Ah, you are not so well behaved after all...”

Meludir parts his lips, but it takes several tries to manage, “I am sorry, my king.”

He whines when the fingers do pull away. It leaves him so terribly _empty_ , though he can still feel Thranduil cocooned around him. Thranduil gently rolls him back, turning him onto his other side, so that he’s facing Thranduil’s naked figure and salivating for it. Finished, Thranduil’s wet fingers trail down his middle and drive into him again, just as deep as before—Meludir gasps, shivers, and takes it. For his reward, he asked only for a night with his beloved lord, but it seems as though he really will be getting _all_ night. He doesn’t complain. 

A kiss drags across his useless mouth, and he wishes he had the wherewithal to return it. A gentle hand pets through his hair, affectionately brushing it back. Meludir babbles, “I love you.”

“I know,” Thranduil muses. Another kiss, and his fingers resume their earlier vigor. Meludir loses all thought of anything else. He lives in his king’s arms for his king’s pleasure, and he’ll stay as long as he can.


End file.
